From The Ashes
by Senashenta
Summary: Twelve years have passed, and Reyen still grieves for Willow... but now someone new has come into her life, and she won't make the same mistake twice. (Sequel to 'Through The Rain'.)


**Disclaimer:** Valdemar and concepts belong to Mercedes Lackey, lyrics are to "From The Ashes" by Martina McBride, and this story and Original Characters belong to their author.

**Notes:** Sequel! Sequel! This is a companion-fic/sequel to _Through The Rain_, which was to the song "Concrete Angel" by Martina McBride. This fic is to the song "From The Ashes", which is also by Martina McBride.

**FROM THE ASHES  
By Senashenta**

_-  
My right hand holds matches  
My left hand holds the past  
I hope the wind catches  
And burns it down fast…  
-_

How long had it been?

Twelve years? Thirteen?

It felt like more...

A soft sigh, and her breath fogged in the cold winter air, though she herself didn't feel the chill of the season. While the rest of the Herd—those who hadn't retreated to the stables already—stood together both for companionship and for warmth, she was alone.

Though she was up to her knees in snow, she didn't shiver. Didn't complain.

_I have no right to complain._ An ear flicked absently, and she watched the mist of her breath in the vague reflection of herself that looked back at her from the frozen Terilee river. Once bright crystalline eyes were clouded—as they had been for years.

Since Willow.

_:You can't keep doing this, Reyen.:_ It was the Grove Born again—it was always him. Gwydion was the only one who bothered trying to talk to her about it anymore—the rest of the Companions had given up on her long ago.

She wasn't always so depressed, but there were days... days that the memories resurfaced with harsh clarity, and it was all she could do to get through until they faded into the past once more. And on the days when she wallowed in her own failure, the rest of the Herd steered clear and just waited until she managed to pull her tail out of it.

_:Leave me alone, Gwydion. I just... I need to be alone.:_

But Gwydion lingered with annoying patience. _:It's been a decade—how long do you intend to blame yourself for what happened?:_

_:Until the end of time.:_ Reyen responded bitterly, _:until the Gods decide to take back that night—until I can go back and change things... do what I should have done in the first place.:_

_:Reyen—:_

_:It's going to snow again.:_

He blinked at her for a moment, then shook his head slowly, sadly, and backed away, turning to return to the Herd.

_It's going to snow again._

_-  
I'm gonna' step into the fire  
With my failures and my shame  
And wave goodbye to yesterday  
As I dance among the flames.  
-_

The Collegium Temple was visible from Companion's Field, and she wasn't the only one who was watching the children leave its warmth as they were dismissed from their classes for the day—two others were with her, Seneca and Kaesey. Both of their Chosen were teachers at the Temple, along with the priest, Father Trindan.

They were watching—waiting—for their Chosen to emerge.

And she was staring wistfully, her mind on other things.

There—see?

That child... that little girl with hazel eyes and matching hair.

_She looks so much like Willow_

Reyen had been watching her for weeks, ever since the girl's first appearance at the Temple. She walked with her eyes down, and the soft, shy, withdrawn air that had so marked the _other_ girl she'd known.

There was something there—the same, yet not.

Reyen wanted to talk to her. Something inside her own chest ached—screamed—every time she walked past, and yet she remained silent. Sad crystal eyes hovered over the child, following her steps, watching her as she headed down the road and out of the Collegia grounds, toward Haven.

She couldn't Bespeak her. No. Not another one.

She'd promised herself never to do that again.

_-  
Don't try to save me now  
Let the walls of my world all burn down  
Just stand back and wait 'til the smoke finally passes  
And I shall rise  
From the ashes…  
From the ashes…  
From the ashes…  
-_

She had a brother, older by two years and not attending the Temple classes. Reyen had seen him only twice, both times on days when he had come to walk his sister home. She wondered if he was as unhappy as he looked—and, for that matter, if _she_ was as unhappy as _she_ looked.

The first time she saw him, he was sporting a black eye, and a bruise that circled around the upper part of his neck. His gaze was haunted, worried, wary, and he collected his sister without so much as a word, taking her hand and leading her off toward the city.

Reyen wanted to follow them. Wanted to know where they were going, and what they were returning home _to_—but she didn't.

Instead she turned herself around and retreated to one of the tree groves, to hide from the world and cry tearlessly by herself.

_-  
For all that I'm losing  
Much more will I gain  
The hard part is choosing  
To change what needs changed…  
-_

Gwydion suspected something. He had appeared next to her suddenly and without an explanation, and watched the children as Herald Verlee and Father Trindan stood by the front doors of the Temple and waved the children on their way. Herald Tadita was—presumably—still inside and tidying up after the lesson.

Pale brown hair and frightened demeanor—

Verlee turned sad eyes toward his Companion as she passed beneath his gaze, and Seneca's ears flattened sideways, her tail twitching nervously. The girl was marked, this time, with a fading bruise across the left side of her face.

She tried to hide it as she scurried past her teachers.

_:Verl' says...:_ Seneca's Voice was hushed, and she shared a look with Gwydion, _:he says it's not the first time she's come to class with bruises and scrapes.:_

Of course it wasn't.

Reyen had seen them before, ugly purple, green and blue, marring her pale skin. She was always hurting, always afraid, always turning her eyes away and hurrying onward before anyone could notice of comment—

She was Willow all over again, but maybe this time...

Maybe...

_-  
My step will be much lighter  
With these demons off my chest  
I'm born a better spirit  
And lay the old to rest.  
-_

The night was starless and dark, and a chill wind blew. Clouds covered the moon, but Reyen's eyes were focused on the sky nonetheless, though her thoughts were a million miles away. She watched the heavens and prayed—for an answer—for a miracle—for salvation—and none of her prayers were for herself.

Someone was crying that night.

She could feel it in the depths of her heart and soul.

_Not just someone... not just anyone..._

—a strange feeling—

—like someone calling her name from far in the distance—

—a tugging at her very being—

—an urgency beyond compare—

Her mind screamed at her, clawing at reason and logic and understanding. Shivering a little, she flared her nostrils to the wind and _inhaled_, drawing in the scent of the night—and with it came the realization that—that—that—

Her time had come.

_-  
Don't try to save me now  
Let the walls of my world all burn down  
Just stand back and wait 'til the smoke finally passes  
And I will rise  
From the ashes…  
From the ashes…  
From the ashes…  
-_

Silver hooves hammered against the grass and snow—_leapt_—landed on the other side of the fence that lined Companion's Field. Around her, voices raised in surprise and shock, and the Grove Born's was among them, calling after her, but she blocked them all from her mind as she raced, beyond thought, beyond sadness and grief, beyond guilt, focused on the shrill scream of fear and desperation that was deafening in only _her_ ears, in only _her_ mind—

The Collegium was left behind—far behind—in a matter of what felt like seconds, and still she ran, hooves pounding against the stone road now, pain lancing up her legs from the repetitive impacts and mane and tail whipping behind her.

Houses—trees—fences all blurred together.

More voices shouted against the din of unanswered mental cries for help as she thundered through the residential areas of Haven, ears back—_pinned _back by her own momentum—and eyes wide with panic and terror that was not her own—

_Help—help me—someone—please—_

She didn't recognize the voice. Had never heard it before, and yet it was familiar—

_Please—someone—anyone—please—please—please—_

Something inside her was roaring with rage, forcing her legs to move, forcing her to run as fast as she could, forcing her to stretch her legs and close her mind to reason and comprehension and anything beyond the pleas and her own breathing—her own heartbeat—her own anger—

—_PLEASE—_

There.

She dug her feet into the ground and skidded—jerked—to a stop, whirling around even as her desperate run came to an end.

_Here! It's here! It's—_

The house was like any other. Brick and wood, a faded red, and with an old front stoop that had obviously been added after it was built and finished. All the shutters were closed against the outside world. The front door was made of oak wood, aged and stained, treated carefully, and thick enough to block most of the sounds from inside the building.

Reyen brought it down with two kicks.

_-  
I'll walk away stronger  
I will be flyin'  
Higher and higher  
Than I've flown before.  
-_

She knew her.

Knew that face—knew those eyes—knew that look—that tortured, haunted, look—

The man was probably her father, but that didn't matter to Reyen. What mattered was the frightened way the girl was huddled behind her brother and the terrified expression on both their faces. What mattered was the heavy crop in the man's hand, the end of which was stained with blood. What mattered were the lash marks across the faces of both children. What mattered was the man turning to face her as the door to his house burst inward in a shower of wood chips and splinters.

At least he had the decency to look surprised.

No thought was more prevalent in her mind than the one that focused on that crop—on the _whip_ he was using to _beat_ his own children—than the one that screamed for vengeance and for his _own_ blood to be spilled—

She stood in the wake of the ruined door, legs and lungs aching, sides heaving, gasping for breath, and glared raw hatred at the man before her eyes.

_:You—:_

Her Mindvoice was harsh, filled with rage and grief and retribution, and he backed up a step, propelled by something he heard in the single word. Fear kindled in his own eyes, and he held onto the crop as if it were a sword—as if it could protect him from the demon that had come for him—finally—

After how long of hurting the innocents that were cowering in front of him?

She wanted to hurt him. Wanted to kick him, bite him, trample him into the ground until he was no more a person than the wooden beams of the floor they were standing on, or the dirt under the feet of the people who were gathering outside to watch the spectacle.

She wanted to kill him, and she was angry enough to easily do it.

But...

No justice she handed down would ever be enough to punish him for his crimes.

_:You.: _Her sapphire eyes were hard and cold. _:Get out.:_

_-  
My right hand holds matches  
My left holds my past  
I hope the wind catches  
And burns it down…  
-_

He scrambled past her and out the door, but she knew he wouldn't get far.

Outside, through the crowd, a pair of Heralds were pushing their way toward the house, and with them was Gwydion, looking both wise and at the same time worried.

With the man gone—or at least out of her sight—Reyen felt her anger fade. Now with sadness, she turned to look at the two children, who were staring at her as if she were a demon straight from Hell itself—

_:I—I'm sorry—I—:_

Didn't mean to scare them? Didn't want them to suffer anymore?

"What's your name?"

The voice was like music—

—she knew that voice—

_"I've never had a friend like you, Reyen."_

For a moment, Willow stood before her, eyes bright and welcoming—

_:My name is Reyen, and I—:_

Sad crystal clashed with sad hazel, and she—

Gods.

She was—

_:—I—I think I Choose you, Lieu—:_

_"I've never had a friend like you—"_

_:I think I Choose you.:_

_-  
Fast…  
-_


End file.
